Edge of the Earth
by Dragonmaster1
Summary: Alexander and his Companions are brought back to life by the Powers that Be to help a mysterious man named Rogue defeat the Brotherhood of the Sun, a group of chaosworshipping mages that are bent on bringing about the apocalypse.
1. Edge of the Earth

**Title Edge of the Earth**

**Author: Dragonmaster**

**Rating: NC-17 (R on FanFiction)**

**Genre: Drama/Supernatural**

**Fandom: Alexander the Great (movieverse, kinda)**

**Pairings: Ptolemy/Thais, right now. More to come later.**

**Warnings: Slash (duh), AU/FutureFic hybrid. Mad angry violence.**

**Disclaimer: They own themselves. Or, at least they would if they weren't dead. Song disclaimers will be at the end of each chapter.**

**Summary: Alexander and his Companions are brought back to life by the Powers that Be to help a mysterious man named Rogue defeat the Brotherhood of the Sun, a group of chaos-worshipping mages that are bent on bringing about the apocalypse.**

**Edge of the Earth**

**By: Dragonmaster**

_Stand out on the edge of the earth  
Dive into the center of fate  
Walk right in the sight of a gun  
Look into this new future's face _

30 Seconds to Mars: "Edge of the Earth"

_Manchester, New Hampshire - 2005_

The man known only as Rogue cursed under his breath as he checked his watch for the fifth time. The prophet, Maverick, was late.

Maverick was never late.

_I'll give him three more minutes,_ Rogue thought to himself. _Then I'll call in reinforcements. _He leaned back against the alley wall and took a drag on his cigarette, the glowing embers briefly lighting up his scarred face. He was taking a big risk by meeting Maverick in person; one of the reasons he wasn't dead yet was because he didn't make a habit of revealing his identity. Even his allies knew him only as a mysterious voice on the phone. To others, this was paranoia. To Rogue, this was a safety precaution.

A beeping from his watch drew Rogue's attention. Maverick's three minutes were up. An uneasy feeling knotted in the pit of his stomach as he ground out his cigarette and headed for a pay phone. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't think about using a line that could be so easily tapped or traced, but the prophet's life was now on the line.

"Hello?" a sleepy voice on the other end said with a half-stifled yawn.

"We need a search and rescue out to Maverick's place," Rogue said by way of greeting. "He failed to make the rendezvous. You need to hurry. I'll be in touch." He hung up the phone before the man on the other end could respond. With a quick glance behind him, Rogue pulled his sweatshirt hood down lower, hiding his face in its depths. Maverick's life was now in the hands of his allies and the only thing Rogue could do now was pray to the gods that the prophet was okay.

* * *

Ptolemy Lagos stared at the phone and wearily ran a hand through his reddish-blonde curls. He was getting more and more adjusted to this new, modern world, but sometimes he wished the gods hadn't decided to bring him back to life.

"Ptolemy?" Thais' soft voice came from the bed. The Athenian woman had also been brought back from the ancient world and she and Ptolemy had recently married. "Who was that?"

The former general set the phone back in its cradle and pulled a clean shirt and a pair of jeans from the closet. Despite having been in this new world for nearly a year now, he still thought that pants were one of the oddest things about it. Tunics and chitons with the armoured leather skirt made far more sense. "Rogue," he replied, fumbling with his belt. "The prophet never showed up to meet with him and now he wants us to check it out." He picked up a comb and attempted to bring his hair into some semblance of order. "I wish I could get more information out of this guy; he's so damn cryptic."

"I don't trust him," Thais sniffed. "Why won't he tell you why these prophets are being targeted, and who's targeting them?"

"I wish I could tell you, love," Ptolemy said, giving his wife a brief kiss. "I'll see you when I get back."

"Be careful. This could be a trap for all we know."

Ptolemy grinned reassuringly at her. "I'll be alright," he said. He shut the door to his bedroom and opened the one immediately to his left. The three figures within didn't move, but Ptolemy wasn't fooled. He knew they had heard the phone ring and simply didn't want to move. Living among Americans had made all of the Companions lazy.

"Get up. Rogue just called."

Three voices groaned in unison. Kassander threw his pillow over his head and Harpalos affected an obviously fake snore. Kraterus reluctantly hauled himself out of his bed and moved to get his roommates up. "I'll get these two," he grumbled. "You get the others." Ptolemy nodded and moved to the last bedroom in the small house.

Alexander and Perdiccas were roused without too much difficulty and what remained of Macedon's finest warriors gathered in the living room. The six generals had often discussed why the gods had chosen them to bring back to life, but not men like Leonnatus, Nearchus, Hephaestion, or Black Cleitus.

Alexander still hadn't completely gotten over the loss of Hephaestion. Everyone had expected the stolid young general to be revived, but it had been a year and there still was no sign of him.

The Companions piled into the Ford Explorer that the mysterious Rogue had sent to them and set off into the night.

"Someone read me the directions," Ptolemy said, keeping his eyes on the road.

Harpalos leaned in between Alexander and Ptolemy from the back seat with a piece of paper. "Turn left up here at the light, then it's the apartment building immediately on the right. Apartment 504." The crippled man sat back. "Do you think Rogue will be there?"

"I hope so," Alexander growled. "I, for one, would like to get some answers out of him." Kassander and Kraterus murmured their agreement. Ptolemy cast a worried glance at the blonde Macedonian. Alexander had darkened considerably ever since he had come to accept that Hephaestion would not be returning. Ptolemy worried about him on a daily basis, ready to intervene if the former king went any farther into his downward spiral.

The Explorer pulled into a parking space at the apartment complex. Ptolemy patted his jacket, reassuring himself that the .33mm was still tucked safely in his inside pocket. Unlike the others, he refused to carry anything more powerful. He'd had enough of war and violence for one lifetime and hated Rogue for dragging him into yet another battle.

The group entered the complex and rode the elevator in silence. Alexander stepped into the hallway first, one hand resting on the .45mm tucked into his belt. He stopped in front of Maverick's door and motioned for the others to follow suit. Strangely enough, the door was unlocked.

The apartment appeared to be deserted. Ptolemy and Kraterus split off and checked the two bedrooms and bathroom thoroughly before meeting the others back in the living room.

"Nothing?" Harpalos asked.

Kraterus shook his head. "Nothing. Not even a scrap of paper that could give us a hint as to why this guy's a target."  
Alexander sighed. "So we're back to square one," he grumbled.

"Not entirely."

As one, the Companions jumped at the American-accented drawl. Six guns were drawn and instantly pointed at the hooded figure in the doorway. No one had heard him enter. The man was dressed in typical American style: faded black jeans and boots with a black sweatshirt. The hood was pulled down low over his eyes and a scarf covered the bottom half of his face, muffling his voice.

"Put your weapons away; I'm on your side," the figure growled. "I found something that could help."

Ptolemy tentatively lowered his gun. "You're Rogue," he said.

"Very perceptive of you, Lagos. You get the gold star for today," Rogue said dryly. He tossed an object through the air and Ptolemy caught it awkwardly. "It's a medallion belonging to someone in the Brotherhood of the Sun, a cult of chaos worshippers. My guess is that they're the ones who took Maverick."

"Why do they want him, anyway?" Kassander asked, eyeing the taller man suspiciously.

Rogue brushed past Alexander and took a seat on the prophet's couch, rubbing his left leg absently. "He's one of the last people left alive who know about the Apocalypse. The Brotherhood knows that if the Apocalypse isn't stopped, chaos will reign. They want Maverick to tell them who the opposition is so they can eliminate it.

"I can only help you from a distance; in fact, I'm taking a big risk meeting you here like this," Rogue continued. "That's the price I have to pay for my immortality. I can provide you with whatever you need, but when it comes down to the final battle, I can't interfere."

Alexander sat next to him, trying to peer inside the dark cowl. "Immortality? The gods revived you too?"

Rogue nodded, turning his head away from Alexander. "I've been here since the late eighteen-hundreds," he replied.

Ptolemy and Perdiccas exchanged surprised glances. They had always assumed Rogue had been from this time. His rough American accent and knowledge of modern weaponry certainly suggested that.

Rogue though, was not in the mood for any more questions. He stood and walked to the door, favouring his left leg. Alexander took his arm to steady him, but Rogue flinched under the other man's touch and jerked away. "Don't," he rasped, sounding nervous for the first time. Alexander let go and backed away, confused.

"Work on gathering as much information you can about the Brotherhood. The symbol on the medallion should get you started," Rogue instructed, rubbing his arm where Alexander had touched him. "I'll keep in touch."

"Will we see you again?" Ptolemy asked, now wanting more than ever to find out more about the strange man.

"Probably not. I can't risk being caught by the enemy." With that, he left.

Ptolemy sighed. He had hoped to get some answers from Rogue, but he was only left with more questions. There was nothing he could do about it now, except to follow Rogue's instructions. "Kraterus, follow him," he said. "The rest of you, let's go. There's nothing more we can do tonight."

* * *

Rogue stumbled into his temporary apartment, the pain in his leg getting stronger by the second. His scarf slipped to the floor and he violently shoved his hood away from his face.

"Bastard," he hissed, falling to his knees. "Let me go!"

_"I don't think so,"_ a sinister voice sneered into his mind. _"You've been a bad boy."_

Rogue fought against the intruding presence in his mind. He wouldn't let the mage control him again. "Alexander had the key now. You're too late."

The mage chuckled. _"Not even the great King Alexander can stop us now, boy."_ A pause, then the voice took on a more mocking tone. _"I wonder what Alexander would do if he found out that you knew where his beloved Hephaestion was?"_

Rogue froze. "You wouldn't tell him. You can't."

_"Physically, no, I can't tell him. I know you, though, boy. The truth will come out eventually because you won't be able to stay away from him. He'll hate you for keeping it from him."_

Abruptly, the pain in his leg was gone and Rogue collapsed, panting heavily. "You'll never defeat him," he gasped. "Alexander killed you once; he'll do it again."

The mage laughed cruelly. _"We shall see, child. We shall see,"_ he purred as his presence faded away, leaving only an echo of his words behind.

Rogue fought to stay conscious, his long sable hair falling in front of his scarred face. Fighting off the mage had taken more out of him than it usually did. As he let darkness claim him, he failed to notice the lone figure whom had followed him from Maverick's apartment standing just inside the doorway.

**Author's Note: So, what did you guys think? The slash will come soon, don't worry. I thought it would be cool if someone took Alexander and the Companions and tossed them into the modern world, so this came up as the best one as I threw some plots around. Hope you guys like it so far! -DM**


	2. Incomplete

**A/N: Again, song lyrics are not mine. Neither are my two guest stars in this chapter. Anyone who reads my other fics will recognize the bartender and his boyfriend, which happen to be my favourite boys to slash. The lyrics are in italics, so as to differ them from regular speech. That said, here's Chapter Two, enjoy!**

Chapter Two

_I try to go on like I never knew you  
I'm awake but my world is half asleep  
I pray for this heart to be unbroken  
But without you all I'm going to be is incomplete _

-Backstreet Boys: "Incomplete"

Kraterus' eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Rogue's kohl-rimmed eyes. Rage filled thegiant man and he clicked the safety off his gun, hauling theshorter male off the ground. Rogue's sapphire eyes were clouded and unfocussed as a result of his fight with an unseen tormentor, but Kraterus had no intention of letting him off easily.

With a snarl like a wild dog, Kraterus hurled Rogue's unresisting body to the ground and pointed his gun at the other man's head. "You've got a lot of explaining to do, Amyntoros. Or should I call you Rogue?" Kraterus growled.

Hephaestion Amyntoros spat blood and gingerly wiped at his split lip. "Go ahead and kill me, Kraterus; it's what you've always wanted to do," he coughed.

Kraterus kicked the younger man viciously. "Get up, coward," he snarled in Macedonian. "And stop speaking that outlandish language! I know you still remember Macedonian!"

"I'll speak whatever the fuck I want," Hephaestion replied, stubbornly continuing to speak English. He was only speaking it to annoy him, Kraterus assumed.

"You don't trust us enough to tell us the truth about who you really are?" The big general roared, Hephaestion's refusal to cooperate only serving to enrage him further. He picked the younger man up by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall. He knew he was probably overreacting, but Hephaestion had this beating a _long _time coming.

What Kraterus wasn't expecting was for his prey to fight back. With a wild yell, Hephaestion brought his knee sharply up into Kraterus' groin. The other Macedonian yelped and instinctively let go of his opponent, leaving Hephaestion to scurry out of his reach.

Kraterus heard the soft click of a gun being cocked and froze. He must've dropped the weapon when he let go of Hephaestion. Now he was looking down the barrel of the same gun he had pointed at the other man just moments before. Keeping his body perfectly still, Kraterus flicked his gaze to glare at Hephaestion. "Alexander will never forgive you for lying to us," he said calmly, knowing that those words would pull some sort of reaction out of the scarred man.

"I know," Hephaestion replied, licking blood from his split lip. "It's best if he stays away from me; that's why I didn't tell you guys who I really was. I'm a liability to the mission, so I can't risk getting close." He dropped the gun and kicked it toward Kraterus. "I still love him, Kraterus, but he'll be killed if he discovers me."

Kraterus stood and slipped his gun back into its holster, the fight gone out of him. "Why will he die?" he pressed. He had forgotten that trying to hold a conversation with Hephaestion was a lot like playing chess. "What's going on, Amyntoros?"

"You wouldn't understand," Hephaestion said firmly, his blue eyes frosty. "Now, if you don't mind getting the hell out of my apartment..."

Opening the door, Kraterus turned to glare one last time at the man he'd hated for centuries. "This isn't over, Amyntoros," he warned.

Hephaestion's eyes flashed once. "I know," he agreed. "This is _far_ from over."

* * *

"Did you get a good look at him?" Harpalos asked, handing Kraterus a glass of wine. "I mean, he can't possibly wear that scarf and hood _all _the time."

Kraterus downed his wine and handed the glass back to Harpalos. "No," he lied. "He saw me following him." The giant Macedonian unbuckled his shoulder harness and holster and set it on the table. "The man's insane. Before he saw me, he was arguing with some invisible guy." Kraterus shook his head. "Completely out of his mind."

Ptolemy took a seat on the arm of Harpalos' chair. "Rogue was talking to himself?"

"I believe he seriously thought he was holding a conversation with someone else," Kraterus replied. He had figured it was safe to tell the others of what he'd seen before his fight with "Rogue," as long as he left out the other man's true identity.

A sudden thought hit Kraterus as he thought back to Hephaestion's bizarre monologue. "He did mention something that might be of use to us: he said that Alexander had killed whomever he was talking to."

"I've killed a lot of people, Kraterus," Alexander said. "That doesn't really narrow anything down." The blonde sat down next to Kassander and fiddled with the gold ring he wore on a chain round his neck. "I know you guys don't trust Rogue, but I do. There's just something about him that makes me want to help him."

Perdiccas looked doubtful. "The problem is that we know next to nothing about him," the blonde man said. "I'm not saying he's working for the enemy, but you have to admit: there's something suspicious about him."

Alexander's grey eyes flashed in warning and he opened his mouth to respond, only to shut it abruptly when Kassander elbowed him sharply. Kraterus suddenly hated Hephaestion even more for not letting Alexander know who he really was. He distinctly remembered the young king's grief at Hephaestion's death, which eventually led to Alexander's own demise. Hiding from Alexander was cruel of Hephaestion, and Kraterus wondered if he was doing the right thing by not telling the blonde Macedonian.

With a disgusted glare at every man in the room, the former king lurched to his feet and headed for the door. "I'll be back in the morning," he snapped, slamming the door behind him.

Ptolemy got off the arm of the chair with a tired look. "I would give just about anything to go back to the days when we didn't constantly fight with each other," he sighed.

"Well, if some of us weren't thieves," Kassander said snidely with a pointed glare at Harpalos.

"Or murderers," the crippled man shot back.

The two glared at each other for a few tense moments before Harpalos got up and stormed into the dining room. Kassander too, walked briskly out of the den and locked himself in his room.

The three remaining generals looked at once another, a tacit agreement being formed in those glances. As one, they stood and headed into the kitchen for more wine.

* * *

The Rainbow Room, one of Manchester's few gay bars that had a decent lounge and quasi-friendly employees, happened to be Hephaestion's favourite place to get drunk.

The lanky Macedonian slid onto a stool - _his_ stool - and caught the eye of the blonde bartender. The smaller man grinned when he recognised Hephaestion's hooded form and sauntered over.

"Rogue, mate!" he greeted the other man cheerfully. "What can I get you?"

Hephaestion gave the Englishman a weak smile. "Hey, Spike. What would you recommend?" He had met Spike and his boyfriend shortly after the bar had opened a year ago. Despite only coming in about once a month, Hephaestion was considered to be a regular.

Spike thought for a moment. "Something Irish is always good; Killian's or Guinness, maybe?"

"Fuck the beer. I need hard liquor," Hephaestion replied, pushing back his hood once he was confident that nothing was out of the ordinary.

Spike shot Hephaestion a worried look, not in the least bit fazed by the sight of the Macedonian's heavily scarred features. "Then might I suggest an old friend of mine: Jack Daniel's?"

Hephaestion grunted. "You might as well just give me the bottle," he grumbled. Normally he'd look forward to chatting with the little Englishman, but all he wanted now was to try and remove the memory of Alexander's touch from his mind. His arm still burned where his lover had grabbed it.

With a murmured thanks, Hephaestion picked up the bottle and glass and poured himself a drink. Spike watched him with an intense, almost predatory gaze that never failed to unnerve the Macedonian. "Rough night?" he asked, leaving forward on the bar.

"You have no idea," Hephaestion replied with a mirthless chuckle. He turned to face the stage, hoping Spike would take the hint and go back to work. Fortunately, the Brit's lover was on stage, so Spike would be distracted once the boy finished.

All of a sudden, Hephaestion didn't want to be around when Spike's boyfriend finished his performance. Seeing the pair together reminded him too much of what he and Alexander used to share. The mere thought brought back painful memories.

He took a last sip of his drink and slid off his stool. Murmuring to Spike to watch his drink, the Macedonian headed for the men's room, taking care not to bump into anyone along the way.

The restroom was empty when Hephaestion entered and he let out a sigh of relief. He walked over to the sink and turned on the faucet, letting the cool water run over his hands before splashing some onto his face. Running through calming exercises in his mind, Hephaestion gripped the porcelain sink. His knuckles turned white as bone as he stared at himself in the mirror.

He had long forgotten what his face had originally looked like. A jagged scar ran from his temple across his left eye, running down the side of his face and ending just below his lower lip. Three more scars lined his right cheek and another bisected the right side of his upper lip. The worst of them all went from his left ear to his jaw where the skin had been torn, leaving the flesh to heal twisted and deformed.

Hephaestion averted his gaze, focussing instead on the still-dripping faucet. Every scar was a reminder of the Brotherhood's power, a reminder of the fact that he wasn't completely free of the mages' control.

The Macedonian bit back a cry of frustration and rage. What had he done to deserve such a fate? He couldn't even be in the same room as Alexander for fear that his already unsteady control would slip.

Hephaestion didn't notice the tears sliding down his cheeks until a large calloused hand brushed them away. He jumped back like a spooked deer, his heart pounding in his chest until he recognised the soft brown eyes that stared into his.

"Shit, Xan; don't do that!" Hephaestion managed to snap, one hand going to his breast as if to try to calm his rapidly beating heart.

Alexander Harris, or "Xander," as he went by, pulled his hand back with an apologetic look on his youthful features. "Sorry, Rogue," he said, running a hand through his long wavy hair. "Spike said you were looking kinda out of it, so I just wanted to see if I could help."

Hephaestion pulled his hood back up, once more hiding his face in its shadows. Unlike Spike, Xander usually was uncomfortable with looking at the Macedonian's deformed face. The youth hid it well, though Hephaestion could see right past his act.

"I'm alright," Hephaestion replied, giving the youth a tight smile. "Just had a rough day." He genuinely like the young lounge singer and did his best to avoid dragging Xander and Spike down with him when he was in a mood.

Xander's face lit up in a brilliant smile, his coffee coloured eyes twinkling. "Well, moping around in here isn't going to make it any better. Knowing this place, you'll probably pick up some kind of disease if you hang around too long without disinfectant," he said with a laugh. "Come on back; Spike still has your drink and I've got to start the second half of my performance." The brawny youth made as if to throw a companionable arm around Hephaestion's shoulders, but thought better of it.

The pair split off as they left the men's room; Xander making a beeline for the stage door while Hephaestion headed back to the bar. His drink remained untouched where he had left it. Nodding to Spike to assure the bartender that he was alright, Hephaestion slid back onto his stool. He turned to face the stage and sipped at his glass of JD. It had been several months since he had last seen Xander perform and it seemed that the youth improved with every song.

Unbeknownst to Hephaestion, a pair of steely grey eyes watched the same stage from the balcony lounge as the soft notes of a piano filled the club. The former lovers unconsciously mimicked the other's actions as both men set their drinks down on the bar to watch.

Xander stepped up the microphone with a confidence that belied his offstage clumsiness. The spotlight shone behind him, bringing out the reddish highlights in his dark hair. He stared solemnly out at the crowd, all traces of his previously carefree attitude gone. One hand came up to grip the microphone as he opened his mouth and began to sing.

_"Empty spaces fill me up with holes. Distant faces with no place left to go. Without you within me, I can't find no rest. Where I'm going is anybody's guess."_

Hephaestion closed his eyes at the youth's smooth tenor voice. He took a hefty gulp of his drink, wincing as the fiery liquid burned his throat as it went down. Xander had indeed improved, though his lyrics hit painfully close to home.

Just out of sight, Alexander turned away, not wanting to hear more.

Electric guitars had been added, echoing the tone in Xander's voice. A passionate note had crept into the youth, making his song sound even more haunting. _"I don't mean to drag it on, but I can't seem to let you go."_

Hephaestion squeezed his eyes shut, gripping his glass tightly enough to break it. He was glad that Spike was too preoccupied with watching his lover to notice the tear that slipped down the Macedonian's cheek.

_"I try to go on like I never knew you. I'm awake, but my world is half asleep. I pray for this heart to be unbroken, but without you all I'm going to be is incomplete."_

Similar images from a time long past were brought to the forefront of the two Macedonians' minds, each thinking of the other. Frustrated tears slipped from two different sets of eyes, grieving for love lost. Neither man noticed that the other was there as Xander sang the last note of his haunting ballad.

_"Incomplete..."_


End file.
